Manhattan property managers are bastards.

I totally thought we had a place. I was ready to skip home, dancing and singing the theme from "The Jeffersons". But no. This dude blatantly lied to us. Told us yesterday evening that Apartment 7 at 350 E 91st Street was available. I called him this morning before taking the train ride up there to tell him that we were coming by with the deposit money, and he says "That's fine, I'll see you when you get here." And lo and behold, we get to his office at 11:30 this morning to find that, oops! He got confused! He already took a deposit on Apartment 7.

"I do have another place in the building next door though, much nicer than the other one, a little bit more expensive though."

"Like, how much more expensive?"

"It's $1750, but I'm sure we can talk him down to $1600 for you two." Apartment 7 was listed for $1495 with heat and hot water included.

I give Arthur a sideways look. "Well, we called you this morning to tell you that we were coming by to make a deposit. Did this happen this morning?"

"No," he says, rifling through paperwork. "These girls came by after you saw the apartment on Saturday and made a deposit on the place."

"Then why did you text me at 7 in the morning on Sunday to say that we should come by that day with the deposit for Apartment 7?"

"Oh, man, I must have got confused. I was at a christening yesterday and was just so busy, it's hectic right now, you know?"

Yeah, I know. I know that I now have two weeks to find an apartment in the midst of finals and paper writing and my boyfriend coming to visit this weekend, a weekend during which I thought I would be completely free to enjoy his company and not have to drag him all over the city looking at god damned apartments. I know that this guy was probably planning this tactic all along, trying to mess with some young kids who he knows are students and are desperate for a place. I know that I almost had an emotional meltdown on 91st Street this afternoon. And I know that no matter how much foresight I try to have, and no matter how much I try to be rational and not let my emotions get the better of me, things never work out the easy way. At least that seems to be my horrible luck lately.

So in the middle of writing a 15 page paper and a finishing a take-home final, I'll have to start the apartment hunting process all over again. I thought we were done, but really, we're back at square one.